


The Moment of Confession

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "The Moment of Truth", Arthur find Merlin brooding and upset, and in the process of trying to cheer him up gets a lot more than he bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment of Confession

Arthur frowned, peering into his bedchamber. Merlin wasn't there, or anywhere else he had looked for that matter. Where on Earth was his manservant? He turned out of the room, thinking maybe Merlin had gone wandering off somewhere. It wouldn't surprise him if he had. As he neared the top levels of the castle, close to the entry to one of the out-of-the-way ramparts, he heard a soft tapping noise, slow and rhythmic. Curious, he followed the sound, emerging out onto the rampart. There he found Merlin, sat up against the wall, knees tucked to his chest, looking out over the low wall and one foot absently tapping on the stone floor. He had a lost, forlorn look on his face, and Arthur couldn't bear to see it. That look had become commonplace on Merlin ever since their return from his home village.

Arthur soon realised that Merlin hadn't heard him approach, and stood silently, watching. It was times like these he found it hard to believe Merlin was but a few months younger than him; he seemed so much older, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet, at other times, he seemed as innocent and childish as a boy not even out of puberty. There had been something unexplainable about Merlin when he'd first met him and still, all this time later, he had not been able to place a finger on it. He had gained a close friend, though; and for all his griping about Merlin's uselessness, a good servant.

"Merlin," he broached softly, not wanting to startle the man. "Merlin, are you alright?" Merlin snapped out of his reverie, turning to face Arthur, his blue eyes piercing into Arthur's own. He looked like he was giving serious thought to the question, and Arthur waited patiently for him to speak.

"No. No, Arthur, I don't think I am," the raven-haired man answered earnestly. Arthur frowned, moving forward to sit leaning against the wall opposite Merlin, in a similar position; the rampart was small, and their boots were brushing at the toes.

"Dare I ask what is the matter?" Arthur asked, and Merlin let out a short laugh.

"It is nothing of importance, sire," he dismissed. Arthur leaned forward slightly.

"If it's bothering you, it is of importance to me. Now come on, Merlin, what's wrong?" he asked, his impatience leaking into his tone slightly. Why did it irritate him so? He shouldn't be so annoyed that his servant was upset, but he was. And not because it was stopping Merlin from doing his job. Contrary to what some might say, Arthur did actually have a heart. Especially when it came to Merlin

Merlin sighed, and Arthur saw his gaze shift back to the horizon. The town was still bustling with activity, people wanting to get as much done while there were still daylight hours. "It's just… I look at all those people out there, going about their daily lives, and it makes me think." Arthur didn't think it was time for a smart remark about Merlin's ability – or lack thereof – to think, and wisely held his tongue, silently waiting for the younger man to continue. "None of them have any clue what happened, back in Ealdor. None of them know that many brave men and women lost their lives in hopes of freedom, and none of them know that Will sacrificed his life for their prince. His death changed nothing for them," he added bitterly. Arthur shuffled closer, sitting with crossed legs in front of his servant.

"That is an oddly deep thought coming from you, Merlin. But, as usual, you're wrong," he told him. Merlin raised an eyebrow sceptically at him, and Arthur continued. "Will's death did change something for all of these people. It changed my fate, and allowed them to continue their daily lives without fear of anarchy due to their lack of prince regent. He died so that these people, and all of the people under Camelot's reign, can keep their peace," he said firmly. Merlin managed a small smile at that, his eyes meeting Arthur's.

"I didn't know your brain power extended past your own ego," he teased, and Arthur shot him a look, reaching out to shove his shoulder playfully.

"I'll have none of that, thank you," he retorted with a light growl to his voice, though secretly pleased to see the smile back on Merlin's face. It had been a long time since he'd seen one, and he'd missed the sight.

"Will wouldn't want you to hide yourself away, Merlin. He died so that we could live, and you shouldn't cheapen that by spending your days wallowing in grief," he told him quietly. Merlin snorted, shaking his head.

"How would you know what Will would have wanted? You knew him for all of a few days, and by the end of it you would have been ready to condemn him has a sorcerer had he not died!" he argued. Arthur flinched.

"I… would not have condemned him," he admitted. Merlin's other eyebrow rose.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief.

"Really. That tornado was created to help, not to hinder. I could not condemn him for that. Though, I must confess, it has given me a lot to think about," Arthur told the other man. Merlin looked genuinely intrigued.

"And what might that be, sire?" he asked. Arthur shook his head.

"Please, Merlin. I find it difficult to talk to you in such a personal manner when you are constantly reminding me of our standing. Just Arthur when we are not in public, please," he requested. Merlin allowed himself another small smile.

"Alright, then, Just Arthur. What have you been thinking about?" he asked, a teasing glint in his sky-blue eyes.

"I have been reassessing everything I have been taught about magic, and everything I have been told as fact which I now believe to be fiction," Arthur replied honestly. Merlin shifted, mirroring his prince's position.

"I'm sure it's very strenuous for you. And what conclusion have you made?" he asked with the barest hint of a grin.

"Magic is not evil in itself, merely the wielder's intent shaping it to be so. It can be used just as much to stop the fighting as it can to begin it. I cannot say what has caused my father's fear of sorcery, but I feel it is irrational. If I become king, I find myself wanting to bring magic back to the kingdom. Besides, with the amount of times the kingdom is attacked with magic, it is only fair we have sorcerers of our own to counteract it," he added. He couldn't stop the small surge of happiness that filled him when Merlin gave him a pleased smile, like he had said something right.

"Not if; when. When you become king. I have no doubt it will happen, it is just a matter of time," he corrected. Arthur felt his lips twitch in a smile.

"What makes you so sure I will survive all the trouble that seems to follow me?" he asked, and Merlin chuckled.

"The fact that I will serve you till I die, and will not let any harm come to you while I do," he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. Arthur gave him a look of mild disbelief.

"You are willing to spend the rest of your life serving me? Now I know you're an idiot," he declared, and Merlin grinned at him.

"Possibly," he acquiesced, "but there are many who would do the same. You underestimate the love your people have for you. You will be a great king, Arthur, when the time comes." Arthur smiled at his friend; a true, genuine smile. That was one of the things he liked about Merlin; he no longer felt the need to keep up his royal façade around the man. He could be himself, a rarity he had only had with Morgana and Gaius previously. Even his father expected the mask of him.

"Then when the time comes, I hope you will be serving by my side rather than beneath me," he replied, before blushing as he realised how that sounded. Merlin's pale cheeks reddened, and Arthur noticed with some amusement that even the tips of his ears flushed. "Uh, that is to say, uh, you wouldn't be my servant, but perhaps my advisor," he amended. Merlin looked at him in surprise.

"Really? Then what would you do for servants?" he asked, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Believe it or not, Merlin, there are other servants in Camelot than you. More skilled ones, probably," he added, his tone far too familiar to Merlin that let him know he was only jesting. Merlin gave him a wry smile, but didn't reply, and the two fell into silence once more. Merlin's gaze turned again to the town, and Arthur frowned. "Merlin, there is something else bothering you. Something other than Will's unfortunate passing. Please, talk to me, I can't stand to see you so morose," he expressed, the boundary between them as prince and manservant long crossed. Well, more like crossed repeatedly, trampled, burned, and thrown across Camelot.

Merlin looked at his friend and master with one eye, but Arthur's were drawn lower, to the younger man's bottom lip being worried by his teeth, becoming bright red against his pale skin. Arthur didn't know why, but it captivated him like nothing else. When he managed to pull his gaze away, he gave Merlin a pleading look. "Merlin, please. If you can't talk to me, then I will not take offence, but please, talk to someone. Gwen, Gaius, Morgana, even my father if it would please you!" he exclaimed, and Merlin looked at him wide-eyed.

"You needn't bother yourself with it, si- Arthur. I'll be fine," he insisted. Arthur snorted.

"Honestly, Merlin. Is your head just solid skull, or is there actually a brain in there somewhere? It is already bothering me, but it wouldn't if you would tell me what it was!" he reasoned, his patience wearing.

"I can't. I just… can't, alright?" Merlin snapped. Arthur drew back, affronted.

"Why? Do you not trust me?" he asked with a raised brow, and Merlin shook his head hurriedly.

"Of course I trust you, with my life!" he protested quickly.

"Just not with this," Arthur finished for him, and Merlin glanced away awkwardly, a blush rising to his cheeks and ears that Arthur found rather endearing – not that he'd ever admit it anywhere other than in the confines of his own mind. Dear lord, what was happening to him? He was turning into a pansy, and it was all Merlin's fault!

He turned away, trying not to let it show on his face how much it hurt him that Merlin wouldn't come to him with something that obviously upset him. He'd thought they were close! He'd thought they could tell each other anything! Hell, Merlin had even been willing to tell Arthur of Will's magic, back in Ealdor. At least, Arthur assumed that was what he would have told him, before Hunith interrupted. What else could it have been?

Arthur stood abruptly, his legs slightly aching from being crossed so long. "Fine. If you won't allow me to help you, then there's nothing I can do. I shall leave you to your moping," he said, probably a little too harshly. Merlin flinched at his tone, but Arthur forced himself to ignore it, turning to walk back inside. He was nearly to the doorway when Merlin's voice stopped him.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

Arthur blinked. Hang on, what? Had he heard that right? Merlin was in love with him? Merlin, his clumsy, bumbling, big-eared, _adorable_ manservant? _His_ Merlin? "What?" he choked, turning on his heel. Merlin was red-faced, his knees once again tucked to his chest almost protectively, his eyes not meeting Arthur's. "Merlin, did you just say what I think you said?"

"It depends what you think I just said, sire," Merlin replied neutrally. Arthur resisted the urge to whack him over the head, doubling back to kneel in front of his manservant.

"I think you just said you're falling in love with me. Is that true?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. _Love_. That word conjured all sorts of images in his head; images that, at one point in time, would have been of him and whichever girl – or the odd boy - he was infatuated with at the time – even Morgana, for four embarrassing months when he was fourteen – but which now only held him and the person in front of him. They differed again, in that before they were full of soppy, romanticised things such as moonlit strolls, wedding marches and the odd damsel-in-distress scene. Now, however, they could have just been memories – Merlin's cheeky grin as he teased Arthur like no other dared to; Arthur waking up countless times to Merlin's small smile and a soft 'sleep well, sire?'; Merlin's hands on his chest as he pushed Arthur out of the way of danger; the look of unwavering loyalty and devotion in Merlin's clear blue eyes, as if Arthur were a fool to even think of doubting him. By God, how had he not _seen_?

"Y-yes, sire. It is true," Merlin breathed meekly, Arthur's face but a few inches from his own. Arthur could feel the heat radiating off his friend, the only thought in his brain a constant litany of _'Merlin, Merlin, Merlin'_. How on earth had he been so dense? How could he have overlooked the young man, his attentions caught by pretty noblewomen and handsome knights, wondering why the thrill of kissing them – and indeed more – didn't match the thrill of wandering through some near-empty part of Camelot with only Merlin for company?

"And what are you planning to do about these feelings, Merlin?" Arthur asked, his voice low and slightly husky. He noticed Merlin shiver, and his lips curled into a small smirk.

"Well that depends, doesn't it?" Merlin retorted, apparently gaining some confidence now that Arthur hadn't moved away, hit him, or in any other way shown disgust. "On whether they are returned."

"Oh, I should think so," Arthur agreed, grinning. He only just managed to catch the widening of blue eyes before leaning forward and breaching the gap, pressing slightly chapped lips to Merlin's own soft ones. The kiss was tentative, experimental, but when they both realised that neither was pulling away, Arthur's hand cupped the back of Merlin's head and Merlin's arm wound its way around Arthur's back, pulling the prince closer and deepening the kiss.

The only thing Arthur could think of as his mouth was ravaged by his friend – and apparently, newly-found lover – was that it was bloody lucky Merlin had picked here to do his brooding, for Lord knows what someone would have thought had they walked in on them. Then Merlin's tongue twisted around his own and he couldn't have cared less if the whole of Camelot had seen them, so long as they never stopped.


End file.
